


A Lesson in Self-Restraint (Failed)

by Lohrendrell



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Bickering, Fluff without Plot, Gen, Humor, Kissing, kinda cracky tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:40:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27573943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lohrendrell/pseuds/Lohrendrell
Summary: “Oh, look! That girl who always writes about dreaming of dating me came to see us again!” He held up a distinct dark blue envelope that Geralt’s stomach had developed an unpleasant reaction to. “Do you think she also likes The Rocketees or she just came to see us open for them?”“I think you should start thinking about getting a restraining order.”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 88





	A Lesson in Self-Restraint (Failed)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a Tumblr request. Prompt: Geraskier + Kiss: "staring at the other’s lips, trying not to kiss them, before giving in".
> 
> I also used this as an excuse to write my current favourite crack pairing in the background 👀

Geralt flopped down on the couch, on his back, drying his sweaty forehead with a cold towel. It had been a great yet tiring show. He felt exhausted and more than ready to leave to the silent safety of his own home.

Jaskier, unsurprisingly, was feeling the complete opposite. Crowds did that to him—while Geralt felt drained when surrounded by people, Jaskier thrived in it. Good shows energized him, and tonight’s performance had been particularly successful.

So he wasn’t surprised when the arrival of the vocalist into the dressing room resembled more a hurricane than an actual normal person.

“We. Are. Amazing!” Jaskier was practically yelling, closing the door with his hips and throwing the bundle of random shit on the small table. Gifts from fans, apparently, if the colorful letters and t-shirts were any indication. “Look, Geralt, I got thongs!” He held up a pair of lacy, blood-red knickers by the tip of his fingers. “Do you think they’re used? Is that creepy or charming? A little of both?”

Geralt said, “You’re stretching them.”

“Oh, look! That girl who always writes about dreaming of dating me came to see us again!” He held up a distinct dark blue envelope that Geralt’s stomach had developed an unpleasant reaction to. “Do you think she also likes The Rocketees or she just came to see us open for them?”

“I think you should start thinking about getting a restraining order.”

“Pff. Don’t worry about that.” Jaskier waved him off. “This stuff happens to famous people all the time. Ah! I’m telling you, Geralt! I’m feeling it! Another year or two, if we get to open up to another big name out there, or even if the Rocketees invite us again, our name is gonna—” he mimicked the sound of a rocket departing, moving a hand upwards “—skyrocket to stardom! Quite thematic, don’t you think?”

“Pass me a beer,” Geralt said, not really in the mood to humour Jaskier’s dreams anymore.

Sure, they were good (better than a lot of names in the industry out there); sure, they were all working to achieve a level of success that would allow them to actually live off from music alone, no more second or third jobs. But Jaskier had a tendency to fly too high in his own imagination, and not deal too well when reality hit him. Years ago, Geralt had taken upon himself the responsibility of keeping his friend with both feet on the ground.

“Stop ignoring me,” Jaskier said. “Don’t act like you don’t care.”

“I care. I just know the difference between being truly successful and just opening up for an actual famous band.”

Jaskier pouted, crossed his arms. “I do too! I’m just saying it was a big step for us tonight, that’s all.”

“Indeed,” Geralt agreed, “now get me a beer.”

“I’m not your wife,” Jaskier said, but went to grab a beer from the minibar, getting one for himself as well.

Between gulps of the blessed cold beer, Geralt asked, “How are the girls?”

“Making out, probably. I’m pretty sure Ren told me to get the fuck off when I knocked on their door, but it was kinda muffled. I think they’re happy too.”

Geralt snorted. Of course they were.

“Mm-hm-hmmm got lost on you… Ohh… Mmm…“ Jaskier hummed one of their most successful songs between sips of beer, pacing around the tiny dressing room with his unspent energy.

Geralt enjoyed the few moments of relative serenity, the vocalist’s humming quite pleasant to his tired ears, before Jaskeir decided his version of silence was too, well, quiet.

“We should celebrate! This night deserves a celebration, Geralt, don’t you think?”

“I’ll be celebrating shortly. In my bed.”

“Oh, naughty,” Jaskier snickered. “You won’t invite your best friend in the whole wide world? Selfish man.”

Geralt scowled at him. “You know what I meant.”

“Oh, calm down.” Jaskier rolled his eyes. “You’re no fun.”

“And you’re crude. Teenage level.”

“Well, you’re an old man living on a body of a demigod, but you don’t see me complaining about that.”

“You complain about that all the time.”

“Not about the muscles, I don’t.”

Geralt huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “You really want to start a stupid fight right after our best show?”

Jaskier’s smile was wide. “So you do agree it’s the best night of our lives!”

“Your words, not mine.”

“We both know I’m your spokesman in all matters except your random nerdy stuff.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.” Jaskier sat down on the couch, by Geralt’s feet. Geralt adjusted his legs to give him more space, flopping them on the vocalist’s lap. “I’m your voice of reason,” he said.

Geralt hid his traitorous lips behind his beer. “Pff. Keep telling yourself that.”

“Don’t hide your smile from me.” Jaskier took the beer from Geralt’s hand and took a huge swig of it. “You know, denial is the cringiest of all coping mechanisms.”

It was Geralt’s turn to roll his eyes. “You don’t get to spill bullshit about coping mechanisms just because you watched one psychology lecture years ago in uni by mistake.”

“Hey, I took another lecture just the other day.”

“Where? When?”

“Two days ago, it was an online course, you were right there with me.”

“It was an ad for an online course.”

“It counts!”

“It doesn’t.”

“Geralt, you’re—wait, wait. We’re detracting. My point was: ...what were we talking about again?”

Jaskier took another gulp of Geralt’s beer, and Geralt said, “You stole my beer and was about to get me another one.”

“No, that was not it. It was something else.”

“I’m quitting the band.”

“No, you’re not.” Jaskier poked him on the ribs. “I won’t allow it.”

“You’re not famous enough to be the band tyrant, Jaskier.”

“I’m not a tyrant, I’m just saying you can’t!”

“You’re not even the band leader.”

“Neither are you. Oh, yeah, even better: Phil won’t allow it.”

“She will when I explain I’m quitting because you’re a fucking annoying prick.”

“What do you like the most? Me or me being annoying? It can’t be my alluring teasing because we haven’t gotten there yet.”

“Yet.”

Jaskier’s smile was toothy as he gestured between them. “Really? You haven’t notice the whole romantic subtextual language?”

“You talk so weird sometimes.”

“I talk like a genius, because I am one.”

“Those two things can coexist.”

“And they make me even sexier.”

Geralt kicked him lightly. “Get me another beer, you prick.”

“Now, now, I know you’re deceiving me, don’t think I don’t.” Jaskier got up and took two more beers from the minibar anyway. “Ah! I remember! We were talking about how your tendency to lean on denial is a terrible coping mechanism.”

“We’re really going there? After your so-called best night of our lives?”

“Do you prefer to follow Phil and Ren’s footsteps and make out a little?”

Geralt took a big gulp of his beer. “What about punching you in the face? As a coping mechanism?”

Moving quickly, Geralt lifted his upper body and reached up to poke Jaskier on the forehead, the way one would do to nudge a bug away, thumb holding the tip of the middle finger before releasing it abruptly.

“Ouch. That’s criminal, it’s what it is. I think I’m bleeding!” Jaskier massaged his brow, feigning being severely hurt. Not waiting for Geralt to answer, he added, “It’s still another form of denial. Just a way of hiding what you truly want.”

Geralt frowned. “I truly want to go home and sleep.”

“Oh, shut up, Geralt, I know the truth.”

“You know fuck all, Jaskier.”

“I know the truth, the truth is out there, the truth is coming. Or something along those lines.”

“Stop trying to quote my shows, you don’t even watch them.”

Jaskier stole Geralt’s beer again. The drummer hadn’t even had time to drink half of it.

Jaskier said, “You haven’t asked me what truth I know.”

“It’s because I know there is none.”

“There is.”

Jaskier flopped down on the couch, half on top of Geralt, hands lifted so as to secure the beers from spilling out. Chests touching, Geralt looked up at the vocalist, whose expression was pure mischief.

Jaskier smirked. “You want to kiss me.”

Geralt tried to scowl, but the corner of his lips betrayed him by twitching upwards. “You’re full of yourself.”

“I’m full of wisdom, it's what I am.”

Jaskier took another sip of the beer before offering it to Geralt, who drank it from Jaskier’s hand.

“No need to be ashamed, Geralt. I am very attractive. And I’ll say yes if you ask me nicely.”

Geralt wondered what ‘ask nicely’ meant. He said, “You don’t usually require that much from other people’s propositions.”

“Well, I have to match my beloved standards, don’t I?” Jaskier said, and Geralt recognized the lyrics from one of their songs.

“You’re calling me hard to get.” Geralt took another sip of the beer when Jaskier offered it to him.

“You’re saying you’re not?”

“I’m saying you just admitted you have no standards.”

“That’s rich coming from the man I’m feeding and practically humping on the couch of a poorly improvised dressing room.”

“You’re not feeding nor humping me.”

“Beer, a bunch of grapes like a greek god; humping, lying on top of all sweaty and stinking form a show—same thing, same thing. Not exactly going like my plans, but what are life plans anyway? Just another source of despair and disappointment. Oh, wouldn’t that make up for a great song?”

Jaskier got up, leaving both beers on Geralt’s hand while tapping on his cellphone whatever lyrics he had just thought of.

The two cans of beer felt suddenly colder in Geralt’s grasp. He didn’t dare to touch them to his cheeks. “You were planning this?” he asked.

“Hm?” Jaskier looked at him. “Oh, not exactly planning, just…” he laughed. “Wishing very badly?”

Geralt didn’t ask Jaskier to lay down on top of him again. Jaskier did it anyway. Full body over Geralt’s this time.

Geralt’s gaze fell onto Jaskier’s lips. They were curved in a broad smile.

“You can, y’know,” Jaskier said. “In case that wasn’t clear.” And he _pouted_ , the son of a bitch, he knew exactly what he was doing.

It was Geralt’s turn to smirk. Self-restraint had always been his forte; two could play the ‘being a little shit’ game. “Tell me something I don’t already know.”

Jaskier huffed. “Honestly, Geralt, you’re insufferable sometimes. I’m here trying to be romantic and you’re all—”

“Beer and post-show stench is not romantic.”

“Well, it’s what you get for being this—mmph!”

(Perhaps Geralt miscalculated how self-restrained he could actually manage to be.)


End file.
